birds slam into puddlesnnwings pouring in arsenals of diseasennthe stalemate of stormsnnsays i'm sick with a curennthat looks like beliefnnnncelestial serial killers are too squeamish to killnnbut mercy never knew that shadow of oursnnintoxicated under the influence of flamesnnthe bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rainnnnnpangea is restrungnnand odin's breath steals usnnfrom our prison's poresnnsedated in swarmsnna market of fleasnnclaustrophobes and thievesnnnncelestial serial killers are too squeamish to killnnbut mercy never knew that shadow of oursnnintoxicated under the influence of flamesnnthe bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rainnnnnand i'm eyed by the eyes that i'm eyeing with minennam i bornnnthe ephemeral song of your biblical wrongsnncounts the straysnnnncelestial serial killers are too squeamish to killnnbut mercy never knew that shadow of oursnnintoxicated under the influence of flamesnnthe bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rainnnnnmuch too drunk with the thinkingnnyou're forgetful of blinking at the sunnnnow it's your loss that you're lostnnas you cross hell's alleys where you left your crossnnnna brain washed and friednnit wrinkles and driesnna derelict sage grabs at the brainnnand shoves it insidenna heart hacked and thawednnfrom the horrors it sawnna pretense pretendsnnthere might be an endnnto impulsive flawnnnnsweet monuments mourn what'snnensnared in every throatnnwe do our breathing til it gets too coldnnelude the air that knocks onnnthese psychotropic doorsnnwe keep on building til it gets too oldnnsweet monuments mourn what'snnensnared in every throatnnwe do our breathing til it gets too coldnnnnthe ruins of fallen kingdomsnnthey're waiting to break my fallnnintent upon the instinctsnncontent without them allnnnnthe hallway ends upon a ledgennthe lights go on, cause life goes onnnbegin againnnnnbirds slam into puddlesnnwings pouring in arsenals of diseasennthe stalemate of stormsnnsays i'm sick with a curennthat looks like beliefnnnncelestial serial killers are too squeamish to killnnbut mercy never knew that shadow of oursnnintoxicated under the influence of flamesnnthe bottle sits unopened; it's death that drops like rain
Comatopia/Dermaphoria
The Tempest Armada
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